


The Man in the Fog

by Dovesummer



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M, POV Hannibal Lecter, Smut, Supernatural Elements that are not really explained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26787409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dovesummer/pseuds/Dovesummer
Summary: The man had that strange glimmer of a smile on his face.  “Do you know why you’re following me?” he asked.What an odd question,Hannibal thought.  Not why are you following me, butdo you knowwhy you’re following me.“I had to,” Hannibal answered honestly.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 151





	The Man in the Fog

**Author's Note:**

> It's October, and I wanted to write something Halloween-esque with something of a supernatural element. Will is not human, though I don't really explain his exact nature.

Hannibal tucked his hands into his pockets and shrugged his shoulders, huddling deeper into his jacket. It didn’t do much to protect him against the cold and damp of the strange fog that was rolling in and covering Harbor East. 

Baltimore was not prone to fog the way that other cities were, but it did sit on the water. It wouldn’t be strictly accurate to say it was unusual for there to be fog, but it was usually an early morning occurrence and dissipated quickly. Fog rolling in mid-afternoon was not usual. Unexpected fog causing the temperature to drop further was more unusual. 

Not that Hannibal was unprepared. He considered himself a man well-prepared for all eventualities. His jacket was in his car, however. A car he had sworn he had parked in the empty spot in which he was currently standing. 

_Rude,_ he thought. Hannibal had a very particular method for dealing with the rude; one he would be happy to put into practice once he discovered who had taken his car. And he was certain he would be able to determine the perpetrator. 

He did his best to look through the thick fog, considering. It was unusual for a car to go missing in this neighborhood. The neighborhood was far too wealthy for such an untoward occurrence. Though Hannibal had to admit, the appeal and the downside of living in such a well-to-do area were the same. People valued their privacy, and while they might gossip it was always in a restrained, superficial sort of way. They were insufferable, really, but they wouldn’t look past the surface to find a person’s true value or flaws, and in that way they were valuable. 

But while their propensity to to ignore the unsavory was helpful to Hannibal in many ways, it was particularly unhelpful when it came to the apparent theft of his vehicle - which he was certain no one would have seen, fog or no fog. 

Sighing he turned to head back into his office, resolving to wait until the fog cleared and then walk home. It wasn’t an unacceptable walk, though it was longer than he would have liked. But he wasn’t going to call a cab. 

He was about to round the corner to head back into his office when he noticed the man leaning against the wall. Or, more specifically, he noticed the man’s eyes, somehow piercing through the fog that had become so oppressive it felt like early evening rather than mid-afternoon. 

The man’s eyes were a blue-grey that by all rights should have blended into the fog rather than stood out, but something about them caught Hannibal. As the man looked back, his eyes seemed to shift to an intense blue, reflecting a sky Hannibal could no longer see. There was the glimmer of a smile on his face as he moved from the corner of the building and rounded the corner, fading back into the fog. 

Helpless, Hannibal followed. 

He could barely make out the man’s form as he followed him through the haze covering the streets. They seemed to be the only two out in the city, as Hannibal followed him through turn after turn, down street after street. He kept a safe distance behind without fully understanding why; curious to see where the man was headed, though he didn’t fully understand why he wanted to know that, either. 

The man either wasn’t aware or chose not to acknowledge that Hannibal was following him, but after several turns Hannibal rounded a corner and the man was nowhere to be seen. He stood for a moment, recognizing he must have been walking for some time by the clamminess of his skin and the damp of his clothes. He shivered. He felt oddly bereft, as though something had been taken from him. 

He exhaled slowly. What foolishness. What had he even been thinking, following some stranger through the fog for no reason whatsoever? 

He hadn’t been paying close attention to the path he followed either, and found he was now uncertain of where he was. He turned to head back the way he came, hoping he would recognize the streets he came down as he attempted to retrace his steps. Before he could start, the man stepped out of the fog again. 

Hannibal felt a flutter in his chest as the man walked toward him out of the fog, his eyes changing again from the grey-blue to that vibrant, alive sky blue Hannibal had been bewitched by earlier. He noticed other things now. The length of his dark eyelashes as they fluttered against his pale skin, the fine sheen of moisture across his face giving him an almost ethereal appearance. The curls of his hair, teased by the moisture in the air, framing his delicate face. Lovely red, very kissable lips. 

_What a fool you are,_ Hannibal thought to himself. He had literally stalked this completely unknown person for an indeterminate amount of time through deserted, foggy streets. And now his heart was fluttering at how astonishingly beautiful this mysterious creature was. Certainly the man approaching him was about to tell him he was calling the police. Hannibal was putting himself in an unacceptable amount of danger. He most certainly did not want to draw attention or be investigated. 

He should have left then, feigned being lost - or not feigned it at all, since he really wasn’t sure where he was despite having lived in the city a number of years. But Hannibal found he was rooted to the spot, unable to tell his feet to move, his breath to still, or his heart to slow. 

The man had that strange glimmer of a smile on his face. “Do you know why you’re following me?” he asked. 

_What an odd question,_ Hannibal thought. Not why are you following me, but _do you know why_ you’re following me. 

“I had to,” Hannibal answered honestly. 

The other man smiled. “Of course,” he said softly, but with a strange fondness, as though he had known Hannibal would be there and would follow him. “Mortals,” the man said. Or Hannibal thought he said, he wasn’t quite sure. He only knew he needed to step closer. 

“I am Will,” the man said, moving toward Hannibal as Hannibal moved toward him. 

“Will,” Hannibal breathed. They had come so close their lips were nearly touching, and Will bridged the rest of the distance for a heated kiss. Hannibal was quickly dizzy, pulling away to catch his breath and tasting mint and honey and gold - thinking belatedly that gold was an odd thing to taste but tasting it nonetheless - before licking Will’s lips and kissing him again. 

Will ran one hand through Hannibal’s hair and the other down his chest, all of it damp from the fog. “Are you cold?” he asked. Hannibal shook his head, though he had been moments earlier. 

“You still need to get dry,” Will said, placing his hand gently but firmly on Hannibal’s shoulder before pulling him in for another kiss. 

When they pulled away this time Hannibal felt the warmth of a fire behind him. He was home, the fire was roaring as though he’d built it hours ago and been feeding it. He was in dry pajamas and a dressing gown. Will was holding a glass of amber liquid and Hannibal realized he had one in his hand as well. He took a small sip. Scotch. 

Will took a long, savoring drink from his glass, and Hannibal watched the muscles in the man’s throat working as he swallowed the liquid down. Already Hannibal could feel the warmth and the gentle burn in his chest from the alcohol. Though he wasn’t sure it was only due to the alcohol. 

“You have excellent taste, Hannibal,” Will said. Hannibal thought, hard. Had he given this man his name? How had he gotten home? What happened to his car? He’d been looking for it earlier, but now he was here warm and feeling slightly fuzzy as though he’d had too much to drink. But had he? He didn’t remember more than the single sip of scotch he’d had. 

Hannibal looked at Will. “How did I end up with such a divine creature?”

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but Will’s vibrant blue eyes danced and he laughed. His laugh was musical but behind it was the sound of breaking glass, as though he was pleased but could easily cross the line from pleasure into an infinite sadness. 

“It only took you noticing me, there in the fog,” Will says, looking demure. “Most people don’t.”

“How could they not?” Hannibal asked, honestly. He wasn’t sure what happened to his glass of scotch, though he knew he didn’t want it anymore. He only wanted Will, the taste of the scotch they’d been drinking - _or had they?_ \- mingling with the sweetness of the honey as they kissed, tongues exploring each others mouths. 

Hannibal didn’t remember making their way up the stairs or into his bedroom, though he’d wanted to take Will there, to his bed. He was half undressed already, and Will was fully naked and glorious in the moonlight streaming in through the bedroom window. _When had it gotten late?_ he wondered without really caring. 

Will sank to his knees, undoing the button and zipper on Hannibal’s pants and pulling pants and boxers to his ankles in one smooth motion. Will kissed up one thigh, allowing his nose to graze the underside of Hannibal’s cock as he sucked gently on his balls before trailing kisses down the other thigh. 

Hannibal reached his hand out to run it through Will’s hair, astonished at the soft sensuality of his curls. Will gripped him behind his thighs and then took the tip of Hannibal’s cock in his mouth, running his tongue gently around it and across the slit before taking it further down into this throat and sucking sharply. 

HIs hands moved to Hannibal’s ass as Hannibal struggled not to thrust into Will’s mouth with abandon. Will hollowed his cheeks and sucked hard, feeling Hannibal tense with mounting pleasure. Abruptly he pulled back, grazing his teeth gently along Hannibal’s length as he removed his mouth. 

Hannibal moaned softly, and Will looked up at him, blinking sweetly. He stood, reaching out to grab Hannibal’s dick as he did, stroking it slowly and gently, a frustratingly soft movement that ensured Hannibal stayed fully hard but did not allow for any release. Will kissed him, hard and hungry. 

“Do you want to be fucked, or do you want to fuck me?” Will asked. 

Hannibal moaned again. He was having trouble finding the words to ask for what he wanted. 

“Can I,” he began, breath hitching as Will stroked his cock the slightest bit faster, though still far, far too slowly. 

“May I,” he tried again, once more failing to find words.

“So you’ll be fucking me, then,” Will supplied for him, releasing Hannibal’s dick and allowing a small portion of his brain to begin functioning again. 

Hannibal pushed Will down on the bed, hovering over him and kissing him again, reckless, before peppering kisses down his neck and chest, trailing slowly down to his stomach. Will reached to the bedside table opening the drawer and pulling out a jar of lube. Hannibal didn’t even wonder how the other man knew it was there. He merely accepted it as Will passed it to him. 

Hannibal took some lube from the jar and began warming it between his fingers, but Will stopped him. 

“I enjoy the feeling of cold,” he said, so Hannibal instead rubbed the lube liberally across his hole, teasing gently before pressing in with one finger. Will was surprisingly open already, muscles relaxed and pliant. Hannibal added a second finger quickly, then a third before lining up and pushing gently inside of him. Will threw his head back, arching his back slightly at the sensation. 

“Yes,” he hissed. Once Hannibal was fully inside he paused and Will lifted his head. 

“Fuck me,” he said. “You can’t hurt me.” 

A part of Hannibal registered that it was an odd choice of words, but he was far too focused on the mysterious and beautiful creature that had somehow ended up in his bed, and how badly he wanted to see him lose control and come undone. As he began to move, he felt an ache in his chest, something uncoiling as though he had been longing for this very moment for years without ever realizing he wanted it. 

Will’s eyes met his, an odd glow behind them. Will seemed to know what he was feeling: the longing left unrecognized, the connection with another that Hannibal had avoided but still desired. 

Will’s hands were above his head, pressing against the headboard for extra leverage to push his hips back against Hannibal, encouraging the other man to move faster, harder. Will shifted, bracing his legs and lifting his hips slightly, changing the angle. He moaned loudly as Hannibal hit his prostrate. 

“Faster,” he hissed at Hannibal, and Hannibal had no choice but to comply, thrusting into him hard and increasing his speed. 

Will grabbed Hannibal around the neck and pulled him in for a breathless kiss. Maybe it was the connection of lips or breath, but suddenly all of Hannibal’s nerve endings were alight. He was certain he could feel Will’s mounting pleasure, the tension coiling and waiting to be released, in addition to his own. The scent of their mutual arousal was almost overpowering, pushing on the edge of his consciousness and threatening to overtake him completely; both too much and not enough. Shifting so that more of his weight was held by he left arm, he took Will’s cock in his right hand and began to stroke slowly but with precision, gliding his thumb across the tip with each stroke and gathering pre-come to slick the rest of it. 

Will moaned into Hannibal’s mouth and Hannibal could taste the want and need behind the sound, a smokey flavor similar to the scotch they’d drunk earlier but somehow also sweeter and more pure. 

“You’re so good at that,” Will said, “every time you’re so good.” 

_Every time?_ The thought flickered across Hannibal’s consciousness briefly. Wasn’t it their first time together? But he was no longer sure if this was the first time or the hundredth, or even the thousandth. Their time spent together seemed to be passing too quickly while simultaneously stretching into infinity as though they had and would always be connected this way. 

Hannibal’s heart hammered a pattern tuned to the other man’s name: _Will, Will, Will._ Looking into Will’s eyes it changed to _you, you, you, nothing and no one else but you._

Hannibal increased his speed on Will’s cock, watching intently as Will grabbed at the sheets beneath him and thrust his head back, vocalizing something Hannibal thought might be words but that he didn’t understand before arching his back and coming across his chest and stomach. A few determined thrusts later and Hannibal followed, losing himself completely in Will. 

As Hannibal returned to himself he realized he was laying across Will’s chest and Will’s hand was running soothingly through his hair. Hannibal kissed over Will’s nipple, enjoying the contented hum he received in response.

“I’ll get something to clean us up,” he said, sitting up, though he didn’t particularly want to get up or get clean. 

“No need,” Will said. “We’re clean.” 

And Hannibal realized he was right, though he wasn’t sure when they had cleaned up. Will turned on his side and beckoned Hannibal to lay down next to him again. They lay on the bed, face to face, noses touching. 

“Do you know why you were following me?” Will asked again.

Hannibal felt as though he were on the edge of a cliff, about to fall, and if he could answer the question correctly he would not only survive but fly away. But he wasn’t sure. 

“I don’t know,” he said. 

“Why, Hannibal?” Will asked again, with more urgency this time. 

“I had to,” Hannibal said. He was beginning to feel extraordinarily sleepy. That was abnormal for him. He usually felt more awake after sex, but now he felt languid and relaxed, as though he couldn’t possibly stay awake no matter how he tried. 

“There is no one else but you, there is only you,” he continued to fight sleep. He forced his eyes open, working against the unreasonably heavy lids. Will looked gorgeous post-orgasm, glowing and wild. His eyes were far too vibrant a blue to be real. 

“Better,” Will said, seeming pleased.

“You are so beautiful,” Hannibal mumbled, unable to annunciate. It was only when he felt Will kissing his eyelids that he realized his eyes had closed again. 

“You won’t remember this in the morning,” Will said, his voice tinged with sadness.

“How could I forget?” Hannibal asked. “I can’t forget you.”

Will kissed him then, tongue pressing into Hannibal’s mouth. It was a kiss full of harsh longing and Hannibal could taste the desperate needy want behind it. 

“I don’t think you ever do completely,” Will said, lips millimeters from Hannibal’s. “Hold me until morning.”

Hannibal complied, opening his arm so Will could press up his back up against Hannibal’s chest. Wrapping his arm around Will, Hannibal pulled him close and placed a sloppy kiss against the back of his neck.

“Mortals,” Will sighed. At least Hannibal was nearly certain that was what he’d said, but sleep was rapidly overtaking him. 

“Happy All Hallow’s.” Will twined their hands together across his chest as sleep overtook Hannibal. 

The following morning Hannibal woke alone, chasing the edges of a beautiful dream he couldn’t quite remember. He wandered downstairs to his study where a fire had been banked, though he didn’t recall lighting one. He glanced at the two glasses on the side table that, Hannibal ascertained from a sniff, had held scotch the previous night. 

He didn’t remember having company. He wasn’t the type to overindulge and didn’t feel hungover. In fact, he felt spectacular, his whole body relaxed and alive, though as he investigated the feeling there was an odd element of loneliness to it as well - a distant longing for something ill-defined. Something about the two glasses gnawed at the edges of his awareness, but he couldn’t quite explain them. 

Hannibal cleared the glasses from the study and made himself coffee, settling back in one of the armchairs and looking thoughtfully at the banked fire. He thought he heard a noise on the stairway and turned. 

_Will?_ he thought hopefully. He half expected to see a lithe young man with vibrant blue eyes and dark brown curls standing naked on his stairs. But as he stared at the empty spot, the image faded from his memory like tendrils of barely visible smoke rising from the fire as it slowly extinguished completely, almost as though it had never been there to begin with.

**Author's Note:**

> The fog was inspired by my Pandora station playing Bleecker St, specifically the line "I saw a shadow touch a shadow's hand" and the idea grew from there.
> 
> I tagged this AU, but it could probably be explained away as a dream as well (not that it necessarily matters since I wrote this to be self contained! though I do sometimes wonder what would happen next.)


End file.
